You Don't See Me That Way
by TeamSethGroupie17
Summary: Just Letty's thoughts of Dom before they become an "us". More summary inside. Dom/Letty Oneshot. Rated K for cuteness.


A/N: Hey! I was listening to Safetysuit's song "You Don't See Me" and I was immediately inspired to write this short little fic. I will definitely be writing more F&F fanfics that are multi-chap, but I'd been wanting to do something with Dom and Letty for a while now. So here's a oneshot about Letty's thoughts about Dom before he notices, as Mia puts is, "Sixteen-year-old Letty" and the moment when he does. Leave a review if you like; doesn't matter much to me. I pounded this out in about an hour so it's most definitely not my best.

~TSG17

**Title: You Don't See Me That Way**

**Series: Fast and Furious**

**Pairing: Dom/Letty**

**By:TeamSethGroupie17**

'_Cause you don't see me that way, you don't see the way I look at you when you are not looking at me._ ~**SafetySuit, **_**You Don't See Me**_

No matter what I did, he never seemed to see me as pretty. Hell, we lived right down the street from each other ! I'd come to every single one of his birthdays up until he hit ten years old and then he told me not to come because "Having girls at boy's parties is weird." Little did he know, those words crushed my eight-year-old soul. I was naturally more tomboyish than any of the other girls at school. When I hit eight, I was instantly into cars. I loved everything about them: the way the engine purred when its eight-cylinder engine was started; the power I felt when my dad would let me sit behind the wheel of his old Camaro; the seamlessly effortless way that the cars glided on a racetrack (Dom and I watched his father race many times before 'the accident' that he never talks about); just everything about them exuded power and confidence. At eight, I knew I wanted to race fast, powerful cars when I grew up and it became my goal. I helped my dad at his mechanic job after-hours, where he'd teach me everything there was to know about cars. We fixed up my first car together, which I got for my fifteenth birthday as a way to learn how to race. Granted, it was a 1967 Pontiac GTO, but this bitch went faaast! All power and sleek lines; I loved it. Still do, actually.

When I became ten, I decided to try to give up trying to make Dom see me as anything other than "The Neighbor Girl Who Loves Cars As Much As I Do." It was much harder than I had thought it would be. I found myself sneaking glances at him whenever we were over at each others' houses, usually with Mia in tow. She was my age and we got along for the most part. She loved pretty things and wanted to fall madly in love and get married and blah blah blah. I just wanted Dom to want me back.

Here I was, sixteen and more strange than ever. I would go to school, come home and try to do some homework and ultimately give up, and then go to work on the scrap cars Dad would bring home from the shop.

I was currently working on an '84 Chevy Cavalier. Something was wrong with the chassis, which was the main reason I had been under this fabulous vehicle for three hours now. I had been so focused with the underside of the car that I hadn't even noticed the familiar _thump thump thump_ of combat boots on my concrete garage floor. In fact, I hadn't even noticed he was there until I heard his deep voice say my name.

"Yeah?" I practically shouted, unable to gauge how much sound he was receiving.

"How's the car coming?" He asked.

Giving up for today, I rolled out from under the chassis. "Pretty good," I replied, wiping my greasy hands on one of the many grease rags my dad kept around the garage. "Gotta fix a few things and then I can figure out what to do with her," I said, gesturing to the car just sitting there forlornly.

He nodded in understanding. "Nice."

An awkward silence filled the garage. Not one for uncomfortable silences, I asked, "So, what'dya come here for anyway?"

His face contorted into something anyone rarely sees on Dominic Toretto's face—confusion. He seemed taken aback by the question and then regained his composure. I took a moment to take in all six-plus feet and hard muscle that made up Dominic Toretto. Puberty had been _very_ good to him, I had to admit. At eighteen, he didn't take shit from anyone and scared the few who had originally thought they were tough enough to hang with The Crew. My appreciative staring was interrupted when he started walking towards me. He stopped when our bodies were just millimeters away. I saw a question in his eyes and I just nodded.

And then he kissed me. It was my first kiss and it was everything my inner-girl had ever wanted but had never shown. When he pulled away, I saw another phenomenon that is hardly ever seen from Dom. He smiled; that movie-star-esque smile that made my stomach do flip-flops and made my knees weak (yet another thing I refused to show).

"That," he whispered, his deep voice even deeper now. "That's what I came over here to do."


End file.
